Eva wrote:Finally, we agree!
Yes, blatham, the Creator would naturally be female. The very act of creating (giving birth) is inherently female. And as you have stated, communication is also clearly a feminine trait.
blatham wrote:Now, how to account for evil?
Since the universe is composed of carefully balanced opposites (light/dark, day/night, yin/yang...) if the Creator is female, the Destroyer (aka, the snake) must certainly be male.
Therefore,
God/"Word"/Creator/Woman = Good.....and.....
Satan/"Snake"/Destroyer/Man = Evil.
How appropriate that you should figure this out on Mothers' Day. It is downright providential. You may all bow down before us in thanks. (We won't ask for your prayers since we know how bad you are at communicating. Sacrifices, however, will be accepted....esp. long-stemmed ones.)
I like this thesis, girl! You know, I actually heard an audible 'clunk' as a couple of puzzle pieces fell into place. Unless, with the time difference, that was just Deecups putting her false teeth on the sink. Let's strike out boldly with this sucker and see where it takes us. Let's listen for more 'clunks'. I'm confident this thesis will prove pregnant with them, and they'll be squirting out like eggs from a rutting anchovie.
Ok...we've got The Big Nothing, but with a Girl in charge. There's no reason to assume She wouldn't be able to manage that. (clunk) So far, so good.
And a plus right off the bat...we are freed from the classic theological dilemma...'But why did She suddenly just up and do the presto-zappo thing?' And there's the answer, sitting right there all the time. Whim! (clunk)
Now, where did EvilSnake come from? Kicky, clearly as inspired as we are by this thesis, rushes immediately to the only logical conclusion...She, being Cause, has got her fingerprints all over him. And thus, his form. (clunk)
Ok...we're moving along good here. She digs him. Who wouldn't? The sly dark eyes...that aggressive naughtiness...those compelling "Oh, get thee behind me Satan" hairy muscular buttocks and garden-pawing hooves...that unpredictability. (clunk)
Then, what does She do? What else would She do? She, of course, changes her fukking mind! She tosses him and his snakeskin jacket and his Bill Bailey record out through the gates and into the garden! (clunk...thud...smash)
Remember, this all pre-dated the New Deal. A bit later and there would have been some employee benefits that accrued. But not back then. And the very instant his liberty had been facilitated, he, sly devil, recognized in a flash of bright pulsing red epiphany that what lay behind him was servitude. And that what lay in front of him, like a universe ripe with fresh and nubile wantons, was...everything!
Beneath the twinkle of stars, a wind brushed through the leaves of the tree where he stood. He reached up, picked a sweet to bursting apple, bit into it and felt the juice run down his chin. He turned one last time, and threw the uneaten part of apple. There was a crash as the window shattered. The apple sailed through the white. She'd been bending over, likely cleaning hoofprints from the carpet again. It hit Her behind, a rather too substantial and rubbery behind it occured to him as he watched, and then bounced out a door and into the darkness. She never forgave him, of course, but he didn't really think about her much after that night.
The next morning, Adam, out spraying diazanon in the garden, picked up the apple, and put it to his lips. Eve leaped to stop him, but she lept like a girl, and missed. He bit, and a flood of knowledge filled him. He understood what life held in store for him. He saw the future...the problems with his own kids...the flood...a too brief peak at Sodom...George Bush. He fainted dead away. (clunk)